


In Ritardo

by helvetesfonster



Series: Mio Fratello [1]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Gen, Nothing major though, a bit of angst, a bit of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helvetesfonster/pseuds/helvetesfonster
Summary: Terzo's late.
Series: Mio Fratello [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873867
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	In Ritardo

Fire.

That was all that Terzo could feel at the moment. 

His legs were on fire.

Did fire ghouls feel like that all the time? All over them? It was awful. He hated it.

Panting, he closed his eyes shut as he focused all of his energy into running faster. But his legs just didn’t seem to be cooperating with him. He bit at his lower lip harshly as his eyes snapped open once again, just as he was about to crash into a wall. He gasped loudly and clumsily tried to stop himself from hitting the concrete, his hands coming up to press against the cold surface to prevent the collision. 

Bells. 

“Oh no.” Terzo breathed out shakily to himself, worry clear in his expression. He was late. He couldn’t be late. He wasn’t supposed to be late. 

Pushing himself off the wall, he hissed as his hands began to sting. His eyes quickly roamed in panic over his scraped palms, lips parting in slight horror at the sight of the tiny drops of blood that started to slowly, but surely, appear on his skin. There was no time to focus on the pain, though. He was late. 

Biting back the tears, the raven haired boy shook his head quickly. Terzo’s legs seemed to have a mind of their own, because he didn’t even realize when he managed to pull himself together and start running again, as fast as his short legs allowed him to. 

Bells. Again. 

“I’m so late.” Terzo whimpered softly and furrowed his eyebrows deeply, rubbing his hands gently over his white shirt as he continued to rush down the hall and to the chapel. Chapel which, in Terzo’s opinion, could’ve perfectly been a cathedral. It was huge. Or at least that’s how it seemed to him. Secondo’s words flooded his mind at the mere idea of calling the chapel by a wrong name. ‘How could we possibly have a cathedral _inside_ the abbey?’, his deep voice still resonated in his head. “Chapel. Not cathedral.” He whispered and his eyes light up all of sudden. “Church?” He hummed and considered another option, gripping onto the now red stained shirt. 

Had someone actually managed to pick up the chapel and move it somewhere else? In his ten years of life at the abbey, he had never realized how far away from his bedroom the sanctuary actually was. Or maybe it was his desperation making him lose sense of distance. 

“What—”

Terzo was losing his mind. The more he ran, the more the hallway seemed to extend itself, the doors to the chapel getting further and further away. His legs picked up pace again, hands clenching into tight fists. “Lucifer, _please_.” He begged desperately as he looked up at the ceiling of the abbey, his quick steps slowly dying down. 

The art above had always mesmerized him. How did they manage to actually paint such magnificent pieces on the _ceiling_? Primo had once vaguely told him about how they hired very talented people, who came into their abbey with huge ladders and managed to create portraits with their small brushes. Though Terzo didn’t quite believe that. His own theory, of his father calling in giant painter ghouls seemed like the most obvious explanation to him. It didn’t seem quite reasonable for any human to willingly climb a ladder just to _paint_. What if they fell? It would be a deadly fall. Or at least one that would earn them a couple broken bones. Why submit yourself to such torture when you could just call ghouls that had thirty feet long legs? Terzo didn’t even know if those kind of creatures actually existed. But then again, he didn’t believe any kind of ghoul was real until a few years ago. Nothing ever seemed impossible within the walls of the abbey. 

Wait, what was he even doing?

There was no time to contemplate the origins of Nihil’s portrait on the ceiling. Terzo always felt shivers running up and down his spine whenever he walked under it. It was a constant reminder of how his father was always watching. The only downside to it, was that it was always in disapproval. Terzo wanted for him to just… smile. Give him a hug. Tuck him in bed. Hell, he would give everything for Nihil to just read him _Latin_ as a bedtime story. And Terzo hated Latin. What was the point of learning it anyway? He already had plans on how to ban the language from rituals when he became Papa. Only Italian. Though that would probably give his father a stroke. Primo certainly wouldn’t be very happy about it. And, oh dear, Secondo? He didn’t even want to think of the middle sibling’s reaction. 

Forcing himself to look away from his father’s image above him, Terzo resumed his way down to the chapel. His toes were cramping and his quadriceps felt like they were ripping apart. In spite of that, he was too close to slow down. 

Primo’s voice was loud and clear even through the closed doors. Terzo was so very late. Nihil would be pissed. Primo would be pissed. Secondo would be pissed. He felt like crying out of frustration at the simple idea of everyone’s eyes turning to him, interrupting the black mass. Again. Last time it happened, Nihil made him clean the Church’s chalices. All of them. It took him eight hours a day, for an entire week, to get the task done. Not to mention he had, accidentally, broken one. Not like that was good enough of an excuse to Nihil, though. Terzo was just trying to be like him. He had been playing Papa in one of his cleaning breaks and the chalice just seemed to slip from his hands like water. He insisted that it wasn’t his fault; the quality of the vessel clearly was deficient. Weren’t they supposed to be made of gold? Maybe it was a second hand acquired piece to minimize the expenses of the Church. Clearly, Nihil didn’t listen to any of Terzo’s speculations and grounded him without dessert for five days. Terzo loved dessert.

A small smile decorated Terzo’s lips as he finally approached the chapel’s doors. Maybe no one would notice he was late if he was quiet enough to not startle anyone. Although, his absence at the first row of the perfectly aligned pews probably already gave him away. 

However, all hopes of being subtle about his entrance were rapidly gone. 

Tripping on his own feet, Terzo fell against the heavy doors in front of him which opened abruptly due to the forceful weight upon them. His already damaged hands tried to prevent the drastic fall by reaching out, so his face wouldn’t hit the rock tiles. It was to no avail.

All air left his lungs as he hit the floor, shutting his eyes as pain began to overcome his entire body. The wounds on his hands only grew wider at the friction of the hard marble against his palms. Terzo could _feel_ some bruises already starting to appear on his ribcage.

Great.

Not only was he late, but he had made a scene and a fool of himself as well. 

“Don’t.” Terzo hissed out quickly as he opened one eye, noticing shoes starting to get closer to him. “I can get up by myself.” He tried to play strong, but his quivering words were giving him away. 

The mass completely stopped. 

Primo’s speech was cut off by the door slams and he was slowly beginning to approach his sibling.

Secondo frowned deeply as his eyes landed on Terzo who laid pathetically on the floor. He reached out for his older brother as soon as he noticed him moving and shook his head. “No.” He murmured, hand on Primo’s chest to stop him from going forward. “He needs to get up on his own.” 

Primo knew Secondo could be cruel sometimes, but _that_ much? “He’s in pain, fratello.” He spoke softly, eyes wide as he momentarily tore his gaze away from Terzo so to stare into Secondo’s eyes. 

“He needs to get up on his own.”

With his lips pursed into a thin line, Primo nodded reluctantly and held his hands together.

“ _Nobody_ approaches him.” Secondo growled loudly, his voice echoing through every single corner of the chapel. Several Sisters took a few steps away from Terzo at that, never daring to disobey a superior’s command. 

Terzo lifted his head up slowly, wincing as a new wave of pain hit his body when he tried to move. His mismatched eyes fell right on Secondo’s, who was staring directly back at him. He was disappointed. Of course he was. A completely different type of hurt hit Terzo. And it wasn’t exactly physical. He wanted to cry. His eyes quickly looked away from his brother, just to focus on Primo who seemed anxious. Finally, he looked at his father. 

Nihil was the only one still sitting down.

Terzo’s lips parted as he stared at his father, who hadn’t even turned to look at him. Nihil kept his stare cold and fixated on the Baphomet statue, not even wanting to acknowledge the mess his youngest son did. He didn’t even have to look in order to know it was Terzo who was causing trouble once again. 

“Fratello…” Primo tried again and Secondo simply shook his head, his eyes never leaving Terzo. 

Primo didn’t understand. But Secondo did. Terzo _needed_ to get up on his own. He knew the younger all too well and could easily read right through him. Hell, he practically raised the kid. “You’ll hurt him even more if you help him.” He whispered out in a hushed explanation. “Don’t make him look any weaker than what he already is. It won’t help.” 

“Ah.” Primo nodded slightly. Secondo was a mysterious man. He could never really comprehend the way his brother’s brain functioned. 

Only after Terzo had stood up on shaky legs, was that Secondo noticed the blood handprints on his shirt that chaotically disrupted the white outfit. Something happened before. That wasn’t from the fall. Secondo’s chest tightened at the sight. An odd rush of adrenaline went down his spine, threatening his legs to move forward so to pull Terzo into his arms. But they were in the middle of a mass. Those were sacred. 

“Fratellino, I’m glad you finally decided to join us.” Secondo spoke up again and opened an arm out for Terzo, nodding for him to join him by his side.

All eyes were suddenly on the second Emeritus son and Terzo couldn’t be more glad to have the attention off him. He nodded slowly and bit down at his lower lip harshly, tears welled up in his eyes. Carefully, he approached his siblings and weakly held onto Secondo’s shirt in an attempt to stabilize himself. The burning of his legs, the soreness engulfing the side he fell on and the wounds on his hands were draining him from energy. 

Primo shared a look with Secondo and without a word, resumed the mass. Everyone sat back down and not a single word was heard of the incident again. 

-

“Padre…” Terzo started after the final prayer was said. But his words got caught in his throat when Nihil lifted up a hand.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Nihil scoffed and looked down at Terzo for a second, raising an eyebrow at the blood on his son’s shirt. “And for hell’s sake, get changed.” He said distantly and began to head out of the chapel, followed closely by Primo.

The boy nodded slowly at that and sat back down on the pew, staring down at the palms of his hands for a moment. He didn’t even realize he was crying until his tears began to hit the slightly exposed flesh, causing him to wince at it. 

Secondo kneeled down before Terzo and took his hands in his own, inspecting over them carefully. “Let’s get you to the infirmary.” He whispered softly, reaching up to gently wipe away Terzo’s tears with his thumbs. “And no tears. You worked too hard designing your face. Don’t mess it up now.” 

Each of them got to design their own face paint, as long as it followed the skull resemblance. Nihil came up with his own. Primo, who was the one who looked up to their father the most, used that style as inspiration. Secondo couldn’t care less about trying to come up with anything new, so he used Primo’s with some slight variations. Terzo? Secondo had urged him to be creative. He told him he would eventually be the best Papa the Clergy could ever have, which meant he needed to come up with something of his own. And so Terzo did. His skull paint was minimalistic and nothing of Nihil’s liking. It hurt, but it warmed Terzo more to know Secondo was proud of him. 

“Okay.” Terzo sniffled and clenched his hands into fists again, ashamed of the mess he made. 

Secondo nodded at that and stood back up, placing a hand gently on the back of Terzo’s head as he lead him out. 

None of them spoke a word. It wasn’t needed. Secondo knew Terzo was embarrassed. Not to mention clearly in pain. He wasn’t going to point it out even more; it would only make the kid feel worse. 

“I didn’t want to be late.” Terzo whispered once they were in the infirmary. He looked up at Secondo, eyes wide and filled with tears once more. “It was Primo’s last mass as Papa before you ascend. I didn’t— I _couldn’t_ be late. I ruined it. It was supposed to be special and I ruined it.” He gasped out for air, his ribcage seeming to constrict his insides as he spoke. 

Secondo had to take in some fresh air himself, feeling his heart breaking a little at how distressed Terzo was feeling. He sat down besides him on the bed, as one of the nurses worked on cleaning up and bandaging his hands. “You didn’t ruin anything. I think you made the evening way more memorable, actually. Little Terzo not wanting to miss Primo’s last mass so bad he ended up hurting himself? It’s quite adorable if you ask me. I hope to receive that same amount of affection from you one day.” He teased softly.

Terzo’s lips parted at that and he looked up at Secondo in slight horror. “Fratello! You already have it!” He scoffed, quite offended by his brother’s words. He genuinely _adored_ Secondo. Whenever his father wasn’t available, he was always around the corner. Terzo didn’t know enough words to express how grateful he was for it all.

A proper, wide, smile adorned Secondo’s face at that. It freaked Terzo out a little. Sure, he had seen him smile before; not many times, though. But it was never directed at _him_. The first time Terzo saw Secondo smile was when he was told he would ascend. Then, he caught a glimpse of it once again as he flirted with a very lucky Sister of Sin (who apparently he seemed to like a lot for such thing to happen). That was about it. Two smiles and that’s all he ever got. 

“Fratello?” Terzo whispered and reached up to gently poke Secondo’s cheek, once the nurse finished working on his hands. “You’re… looking weird.” He murmured, not even sure if he was allowed to acknowledge the fact that Secondo was smiling. 

As a reply, Secondo wrapped his arms around Terzo and pulled him in for a bone crushing hug. He closed his eyes and sighed shakily. He would cherish every drop of innocence and love Terzo had to offer. His little brother was growing up way too fast for his liking and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“You made it.”

“What?” The kid breathed, his small arms cautiously wrapping around Secondo’s middle. 

“To the mass. You made it. Primo hadn’t actually started.” It was a lie. Terzo didn’t need to know that. 

Terzo let out a huge sigh of relief, gripping onto the back of Secondo’s shirt even tighter. “Really?”

“Prometto.” Secondo whispered and slowly pulled back, so he could properly look at Terzo. At least he stopped crying. 

“I didn’t ruin it?” 

Secondo chuckled fondly and ruffled Terzo’s hair gently. “No, never.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a very cute idea and it turned out a bit more sad than first intended oops.  
> Hope you enjoyed, anyway.


End file.
